Psychiatric Help
The next few hours passed by in a blue.
Bright lights. Sirens. Cold metal tables. A too-familiar beeping of machines.
Rowan was taken straight into surgery the moment we reached the hospital.
Callum paced. Jo arrived with the twins not long after.
And that—
That’s when everything cracked.
Laura ran the moment she saw me, her tiny body slamming into mine like a freight train.
“Mommy!” she sobbed, clutching my waist.
Larry followed, a little slower, but with the same raw emotion stamped across his face.
Jo was crying too.
“You’re okay,” she whispered over and over again as she hugged me tight. “You’re okay. I thought we lost you.”
I couldn’t say anything. I was too choked.
Too tired.
Too grateful.
We sat in the waiting room like that for a long time. The kids clung to me, one on each side, refusing to let go. Jo kept rubbing my shoulder, her own face blotchy from crying.
“He’s going to be okay,” she said eventually. “They said he stabilized in the ambulance. They’re just stopping the bleeding now.”
I nodded, numb.
It wasn’t just Rowan’s blood that haunted me.
It was everything.
Asher’s wild eyes. The syringe. The way he stood between me and a bullet.
The sound of the gunshot.
The flash of pain.
And the photo—God, that photo.
I didn’t know what it meant.
But I knew it wasn’t just about me anymore.
Whatever Lucious Davenport wanted… it went deeper. Far deeper.
I gently shifted Laura off my lap, kissed the top of her head, then walked to the hallway outside the surgical wing.
Callum stood there, arms crossed, his ever-present earpiece blinking.
He straightened when he saw me.
“Dr. Laurent.”
“You can drop the formalities, Callum,” I said. My voice felt smaller than usual. “Where is Asher?”
He didn’t answer immediately. Just looked at me—measured, guarded, calculating like always. The kind of man who didn’t speak unless every word had been filtered through a chain of command.
But I wasn’t in the mood for silent loyalty tonight.
“I need to see him,” I said.
Callum’s jaw flexed. “He’s being monitored.”
“Medically?”
“Yes. But also under guard. Mr. Vaughn’s orders.”
I stepped closer. “He took a bullet, Callum. He’s unstable, not a threat right now. You think I don’t know what he did to me? I do. But I also know what I saw in his eyes when he stepped in front of that gun.”
He didn’t move.
“Please,” I whispered. “I’m not asking you to unchain him. Just let me see him. Five minutes.”
Callum exhaled, then looked away for a beat—silent conflict flickering through the sharp lines of his face.
Finally, he tapped his earpiece. “Clear a path to sublevel two. One visitor only.”
My heart thudded.
He turned back to me. “If anything happens—if he so much as breathes wrong—you move back, and you let my team handle it.”
“Understood.”
We didn’t speak as he led me down the long hallway, away from the waiting room, the operating theaters, the sounds of children sniffling and nurses whispering.
We took the service elevator.
When the doors opened, everything was quieter. Dim.
Sterile white lights buzzed above. The walls down here were concrete. Not fancy, not meant for patients with insurance.
Two guards stood outside a room marked Observation.
Callum gave them a nod, then turned to me.
“He’s been sedated. But he's awake now. Just… don’t get too close.”
I nodded once.
He opened the door.
I stepped in.
The room was empty save for a bed, one chair, and a heart monitor. No windows. One camera in the corner.
Asher sat up on the edge of the bed, shirtless, shoulder wrapped in gauze. His hands rested on his thighs, head down like he was waiting for judgment.
He didn’t look up.
Didn’t move.
Didn’t breathe, maybe.
I stepped forward. Quietly. Slowly.
He turned at the sound.
Eyes glassy. Bloodshot.
“Asher…”
He didn’t blink at first. Just stared at me like I wasn’t real. Like I was a ghost hovering in the doorway, something he wasn’t sure he deserved to see.
“Asher, it’s me,” I said gently. “You’re in the hospital. You’re safe.”
A flicker passed through his expression. Guilt. Confusion. Pain.
He exhaled shakily. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“I wanted to be.”
He looked down at his bandaged arm, flexed his fingers like he needed to remind himself they still worked. “Did I kill anyone?”
“One of Lucious’s men,” I said softly. “You didn’t pull the trigger, but you were caught in the middle.”
His jaw tightened. “I don’t remember everything. It’s blurry. I just remember screaming. You. And blood. And…”
He trailed off.
“And Rowan.”
He nodded. “I wasn’t aiming to save him.”
“I know.”
Silence stretched.
I stepped closer, watching him closely. “Do you remember what happened before that? When I found the picture?”
He swallowed hard. “I wasn’t lying. Someone really did send it to me.”
“Do you still have the envelope it came in?”
He shook his head. “Burned it. Thought it was a warning.”
I didn’t push further. Not yet.
A knock at the door broke the quiet.
I turned to see a young female doctor enter, her white coat slightly wrinkled and her tablet held tight to her chest.
“Dr. Laurent?” she asked.
I nodded.
“I’m Dr. Imani. I’ve been overseeing Mr. Don’s psych eval and physical care. Do you mind stepping out for a moment to discuss his condition?”
I glanced at Asher. He was staring at the floor again.
“I’ll be back,” I said quietly.
In the hallway, Dr. Imani pulled the door shut behind us. “I’m aware you’re not just here as family,” she began. “You’re also a medical professional.”
“Yes.”
She hesitated. “He’s mentally unstable. But not beyond help. He has signs of acute stress disorder, unresolved trauma, and what we suspect is a dissociative break triggered by obsessive delusion. The incident with you… the kidnapping… that wasn’t premeditated in the traditional sense. He believed he was protecting you.”
“I know.”
“But that doesn’t make it harmless,” she added.
“I’m not excusing what he did,” I said. “But I know the brain. I know what spiraling looks like. And I know the difference between cruelty and collapse.”
Dr. Imani nodded slowly. “I’ll recommend psychiatric inpatient care. Strict. Secure. But voluntary—if he agrees.”
I looked at the closed door.
He had to agree.
Because I couldn’t protect him from the law. Not again.
“Thank you,” I said.
She gave a small smile. “He listens to you. That matters.”
I opened the door again and stepped back inside.
Asher didn’t look up.
Bu
t I crossed the room, sat beside him, and said gently,
“They want to help you. But it has to start with you saying yes.”
He nodded.
“That's good. One last question.” I said. “Where..where is Carter?”
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